


I've Been Thinking About You

by LadySolitaire83



Series: I Love You: Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2018 Fics [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Episode: The Abominable Bride, F/M, Post-Episode: The Abominable Bride, Romance, Sherlock's Mind Palace, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2018, Sort Of Fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:18:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13901940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySolitaire83/pseuds/LadySolitaire83
Summary: On the car ride to Baker Street, Sherlock reimagines the end of the scene in the desanctified church.Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2018, Day 4: The Abominable Bride





	I've Been Thinking About You

**Author's Note:**

> **Theme: The Abominable Bride (Canon Compliant)**
> 
> **Rating: G**
> 
> I've been wanting to write about Sherlock going back to his Victorian experiment to see what happens if the Bride in the crypt was actually Lady Carmichael. Plus I couldn't resist adding a little crossover. *shrugs*
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy this one!
> 
> I don't own these characters. They belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome; I only ask that you'd be mindful of your words.

“What do you mean you know exactly what Moriarty’s going to do next?” John asked as Sherlock sat back in the car and shut his eyes.

He steepled his fingers underneath his chin. “Not now, John.” He took a few deep breaths, half of him wishing that he had left John and Mary to ride with Mycroft instead.

“‘Not now’?” Mary echoed his words in a more annoyed tone. “What is Moriarty going to do next? Are we in danger?”

“Possibly,” he mumbled. Exhaling, he opened his eyes and turned round to look at his two best friends in the back seat. “Why don’t you call Mrs Hudson and Molly? They must be worried for their lives or ours or something after seeing Moriarty’s face on the telly. Please assure them that I’ve got this under control. Tell Molly she’s welcome at Baker Street if she feels the least bit unsafe. Now be quiet and let me think.”

He caught Mary’s cocked eyebrow before he turned back around and shut his eyes again.

“Right. John, call Mrs Hudson. I’ll call Molly.”

Satisfied that his friends would not bother him for a while, he took a deep breath and slipped back into his Victorian experiment. He fast-forwarded until he got to the part where the person he thought was Lady Carmichael approached him.

* * *

“One small detail doesn’t quite make sense to me, however. Why engage me to prevent a murder you intended to commit?”

“To throw suspicions off me, of course,” Lady Carmichael—not Professor James Moriarty—replied without taking off her veil. “You may be an excellent detective, Mr Holmes, but you could have _never_ prevented this. For it is long overdue.”

“Of course,” he whispered, nodding in understanding.

She finally flipped open her veil and stood tall and resolute despite her red-rimmed eyes. “Tell me, Mr Holmes: what would you have done in my,” she paused to glance round, briefly locking eyes with each woman clad in ceremonial robes, “ _our_ unfortunate position?”

He scanned the group that he would forever call the League of Furies, regardless of what lurid title Watson would eventually give this story. He locked eyes with the woman he only knew as Hooper, inwardly admonishing his heart for pounding so hard upon seeing the determination and her strength in her eyes. Swallowing hard, he turned back to Lady Carmichael. “I do not know if I would do the exact same thing, but I sure do sympathise with you––all of you. And I know that one man cannot apologise enough for the pain that my sex has put you through, but I will say I am sorry for what you’ve had to bear.”

“Thank you. Will you have us arrested and incarcerated?” The slight tremble in Lady Carmichael’s voice belied the calm expression on her face.

“No,” he replied with a shake of his head. “No, I will not.” He glanced at Mary and Watson, and their nods and small smiles of approval told him that he was doing the right thing “Good evening, Lady Carmichael, ladies.” He walked away from Lady Carmichael and nodded at Hooper. “Meet us at the entrance when you are done,” he whispered to her before following Mary and Watson out of the crypt.

* * *

Holmes paced up and down the foyer, wishing that he had his pipe with him.

“What is taking them so long?” Watson impatiently asked as he pushed himself off the wall. “It’s been half an hour, Holmes. Don’t you think we should leave now?”

“No, not yet. Just give me a minute,” he said, his pace slowing down as he heard footsteps coming towards them. Turning round, he saw Hooper and Lady Carmichael in deep conversation, both now out of their ceremonial attire, the rest of the League of Furies nowhere to be seen.

“She’s beautiful, Sherlock,” Mary whispered from behind him, making him purse his lips at the way his heart raced at his friend’s words.

Lady Carmichael placed a hand on Hooper’s shoulder and gently squeezed it. Then, meeting his gaze as she turned, she nodded, no doubt in acknowledgement and thanks, and went back the way she came.

His gaze locked on Hooper as she slowly approached them.

“Be quiet, John,” Mary quietly admonished her husband when he started murmuring about something. “I want to hear this.”

Hooper stopped in front of him and nodded in greeting. “You wanted to talk to me, Holmes?”

“Yes, but first… I feel that it is necessary to reintroduce ourselves.” He held out his hand, briefly smirking at her mild surprise. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. What’s yours?”

She gave him a small smile and shook his hand. “I’m Molly Hooper.”

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, _Doctor_ Hooper.” He turned to his dearest friends. “You’ve met Dr Watson. This is––”

Mary came over with the biggest smile on her face and held Dr Hooper’s small hands in hers. “I’m Mary, Dr Watson’s wife.” After they exchanged pleasantries, she leant forward as if she were telling her a secret. “So _you’re_ the Hooper I’ve been hearing so much about. I’ve been dying to meet you!”

Flushing, Dr Hooper worried her bottom lip and sent the men a slightly embarrassed glance. “I’m usually not that bad,” she said in an apologetic tone.

“Oh, don’t worry about it.” Mary glanced at Holmes and her husband. “They both deserve to be put in their place from time to time.” Giggling, she winked at the men. “I’m delighted to meet another woman that can do it well.”

Holmes put an arm round Mary’s shoulders and gently moved her out of the way. “All right. That’s enough, Mary. You’ll have plenty of time to chat with her later.”

Mary only good-naturedly rolled her eyes and walked back to Watson, whose fists were planted on his hips and whose brows were furrowed. She kissed him, and a loving smile replaced his scowl.

Dr Hooper turned to him and briefly raised her eyebrow. “Is that all, Holmes? Er, or do you prefer Mr Holmes now?”

He shrugged. “Either is fine. Actually, nothing has to change in the morgue.”

She nodded. “Glad to hear it. I wasn’t actually planning on using my personal name as my professional name now that you know who I really am. I will still be Dr Morland Hooper at Barts.”

“I don’t expect you to.” He glanced back at the Watsons. “I was wondering if you’d like to ride back to London with us. I’d love to hear—”

“I beg your pardon, Holmes. But Lady Carmichael is waiting for me.” She glanced behind him.

Following her gaze, he spied an elegant carriage parked a few metres away from the cab that they just hired. “I see. In that case, would you like to have dinner with the Watsons and me tomorrow evening?” He briefly turned back to his dearest friends and was inwardly relieved at Mary’s vigorous nodding and Watson’s resigned shrug.

But she only looked at him with astonished eyes. “I… Th-thank you for the invitation, but I don’t think that’s necessary. I hardly think it’s proper too.”

“Oh, you don’t have to come as Dr Molly Hooper, if you’re not comfortable with that,” he clarified. “You are welcome to arrive as Dr Morland Hooper. But you are also welcome to shed his personality, if not his clothing, amongst us.” He turned to his friends. “Isn’t that right, Mary? Watson?”

“Of course!” Mary answered. “Come as you are, Dr Hooper.”

“If you’d like, you may bring someone for moral or emotional support,” added Watson.

The furrows on her forehead deepened as she considered the invitation. “But why, Holmes? If I may ask, why are you asking me to dinner w-with Mrs and Dr Watson in the first place?”

“I suppose I’d just like to get to know you as Dr Molly Hooper, whether or not you are dressed as one. I’m—er, _we_ are—interested in hearing how you fooled everyone during your medical training and at Barts.”

Her shrug indicated that she was still unconvinced. “What’s the point if you can deduce everything anyway?”

“You are right in that I can deduce your story. But I’d rather hear it straight from you. I believe you deserve to tell your own tale.”

She narrowed her eyes at him before giving a reluctant nod. “Very well. But I’m afraid I have a previous engagement tomorrow evening. Will the evening after tomorrow do?” she asked, glancing at the Watsons as well.

“Yes,” he agreed without stopping to check with his friends. “I believe that will do.”

“Great. See you then.” She craned her neck to address the Watsons. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Watson.”

Mary grinned. “Likewise, Dr Hooper. And, please, call me Mary.”

She nodded. “Good evening, Dr and Mrs Watson.” She turned back to him. “Good evening, Mr Holmes.” Then she swept past him towards Lady Carmichael’s waiting carriage.

He turned round and watched her as the footman helped her up into the carriage. Once Lady Carmichael’s carriage was out of sight, he turned to Watson and Mary. “Come along! We have a dinner party to plan,” he said as he strode out of the desanctified church and towards their cab.

* * *

The following week, Holmes, Dr Watson, and Inspector Lestrade entered the mortuary and found Hooper standing beside an empty table whilst conversing with a slightly taller red-headed man. Holmes narrowed his eyes at them and took a look at the strange man. _Late 20s. Recently finished his medical training. Paints and plays the piano. Engaged to be married but is fascinated with Dr Hooper._

“Dr Hooper,” Inspector Lestrade approached the pair before Holmes could speak. “Have you had a look at Mr Alderson?”

“Oh, yes.” He glanced over his shoulder and pointed to one of the sheet-covered bodies at the back of the room. “He’s over there.” He turned to his companion and gave him a tiny nod. “Gentlemen, I’d like you to meet Dr James Edmunds. He will be in charge of the mortuary whilst I’m away.”

Holmes stared at Hooper, his eyes impassive but his pulse quickening in fear. “Going on holidays, Hooper?”

“That’s none of your business, Holmes,” he retorted. “I have told Dr Edmunds what to expect from you and, he’s not afraid to knock you about if necessary. So you’d do well not to cross Dr Edmunds, or you won’t be allowed back in here. Do you hear me, Holmes?”

“Loud and clear,” he answered through gritted teeth. Softly sniffling, he wondered if he had done something she did not like on those two magnificent evenings with the Watsons.

“When can we expect you back, Dr Hooper?” asked Inspector Lestrade.

“In six months. If I can survive Toronto, Canada, that is.”

“Ah, I see. Well, if you happen to run into an Inspector Thomas Brackenreid from the Toronto Constabulary Station 4, please tell him he still owes Gregory Lestrade for Cambridge. He’ll know what it means.”

“I would… if I were your messenger boy, Inspector. But, as I am not, you’re better off sending him a letter or a telegram.”

Inspector Lestrade only laughed and shook his head. “Very well. Suit yourself, Dr Hooper.”

Smirking, Hooper turned round and started walking towards the back of the mortuary. “Now, Mr Alderson’s turn.”

Holmes buried the strange feelings that Hooper’s upcoming leave of absence was giving him deep in his heart and mind. _Solve case now, analyse these silly little feelings later._

Holmes solved the accidental death of Mr Alderson at the hands of his friend and business partner in five minutes. He immediately sent Inspector Lestrade to arrest the suspect and Watson to fetch them a cab. Once they were out of sight and earshot, he headed to Hooper’s small office to wait for him.

The office door swung open not three minutes later to Hooper looking only half-surprised at his sudden appearance. “I have important work to do, Holmes, so you’d better make this quick,” he said as he closed the door.

“Why are you _really_ going to Toronto, Hooper?”

With a heavy sigh, he threw his hands up and rolled his eyes. “Out of my chair, Holmes.”

He quickly but gracefully stood up and sat on the edge of the desk whilst Hooper lowered himself to his seat. He patiently waited for him to shed Dr Hooper’s mask and become Molly Hooper for a moment.

“Lady Carmichael,” she began in her own voice, low enough for him to hear, “arranged for me to fill in for the coroner in the City Morgue in Toronto, whilst they look for a permanent one. There, I can be a coroner without having to pretend I’m a man.” She took a deep breath and gave him a relieved and hopeful smile.

“I see. Well, I’m glad to hear that, Hooper.” As much as he hated that she was leaving, he was genuinely happy that she could be free to pursue her dreams. “I’m sure Mary and Watson would be delighted as well. Would you come to dinner tonight or tomorrow before you leave?”

“I’d love to. May I bring Lady Carmichael tonight? She’s in town to help me prepare.”

“Yes, of course.” He folded his arms across his chest. “When are you leaving? Will Lady Carmichael accompany you?”

“I am leaving in a few days,” she replied as she opened a file folder. “And, no, Lady Carmichael won’t be accompanying me. I am travelling by myself.” She glared at him. “Please don’t try to sneak into the boat or whatever foolishness you may be thinking of.”

“Why would I do that?” he scoffed. He cleared his throat. “But I do have a brother, who holds a minor position in the British government, that can arrange for you to practise at Barts as Dr _Molly_ Hooper rather than as Dr Morland Hooper. If you’d like, I can call on him this afternoon and, by the time you and Lady Carmichael arrive for dinner, I would have the necessary papers for you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is this your way of preventing me from leaving?”

“No, of course not!” he interjected with a vigorous shake of his head. “I am merely presenting an alternative to spending six months in Toronto, Canada, for a chance to be a coroner as yourself.”

She gave him a soft smile. “I’ve made up my mind, Holmes. I _want_ to do this. I _need_ to do this. And it’s all arranged. I do not have the heart to disappoint Lady Carmichael after all she’s done for the group and for me.”

“I understand.” He uncrossed his arms and planted his fists on the desk. “How about a marriage of convenience with me? If you agree to it, I can ensure that you’ll still be in charge of Barts morgue as Dr Molly Hooper—or Holmes, if you prefer. It means you don’t have to sail across the ocean to achieve your goals.”

“ _Sherlock!_ ” she hissed in exasperation.

He leant forward a bit until their faces were merely centimetres apart. “I’m serious, Hooper. Marry me—for convenience, of course—and I will help make your dreams come true.”

She scanned his face, likely searching for any sign of deception. She eventually shook her head and sighed. “If I promise to write to you and Mary Watson, will you stop tempting me?”

“Ah, but you _are_ tempted to stay!”

“I did not say that!” she protested. She softly groaned. “Look, nothing you say or do will stop me from leaving for Toronto.”

He was about to pull back in defeat and disappointment when she spoke again.

“But I’ll only be there for six months,” she continued in a much softer voice. ”So if you still want to enter into a marriage of convenience when I come back, feel free to ask me again then.”

He grinned. “Promise me you _will_ be back.”

“I promise,” she answered quietly with a tender smile.

He finally pulled back and stood. When he reached the other side of the desk, Dr Morland Hooper was back.

“Now, for God’s sake, get the devil out of my office!”

He complied but not before winking at Hooper. To his delight, he caught another genuine smile and a becoming blush from her before he closed the door. Then he took a deep breath and strode out of the basement. _I will need to call on Mycroft at the Diogenes Club on the way to the Watsons’._

* * *

Sherlock emerged from his Mind Palace but kept his eyes closed. _Marriage of convenience? Where the hell did that come from?_

“Sherlock?”

He opened his eyes to see Mary leaning towards him and shaking his shoulder through the rear-view mirror. “What’s the matter?”

She leant back and laid her hand on top of her bump. “Nothing. We’re two blocks away from Baker Street.” She glanced at John, who was fast asleep next to her. “Molly phoned.”

The tip of his ears twitched at the mention of her name. “What did she say?” he asked in a bored voice.

She smirked. “Mycroft told her about what happened on the plane,” she replied, her words turning his blood cold. “He’s swinging by Barts to pick her up and bring her to your flat.”

“What the hell for?”

She shrugged. “She didn’t say much, but I presume she’s supposed to make sure you’re sober enough to meet with British intelligence regarding Magnussen.” She smiled at him. “Thanks again, by the way.”

He smiled back. “I made a vow, didn’t I?”

“I think Molly’s also supposed to keep an eye on you whilst we prepare for what’s next from Moriarty. Which is what exactly?” she asked, crossing her arms and resting them on her bump.

He gave a low chuckle but said nothing.

“Do try not to upset her more, yeah? She’s already upset that you nearly killed yourself, and she’s worried about you.”

He sighed, his chest tightening in his guilt. “Fine. I suppose I owe her an apology as well.”

Mary nodded. “Yes, yes, you do. A date couldn’t hurt either. Or a snog.”

Sherlock only chuckled and rolled his eyes. _Maybe when this is all over._

**Author's Note:**

> If y'all watch _Elementary_ , you'd know that 'Morland' is JLM!Sherlock's father.
> 
> Even if _Molly_ Hooper isn't a doctor, Holmes still calls her that after he found out who she was, because he admires and respects her brilliance, regardless of the gender she presents as. Also, I decided to have Holmes refer to Hooper as 'he/him' in public and as 'she/her' in private. Of course, he lets her dictate when she'll switch.
> 
> Inspector Thomas Brackenreid is a major character in _Murdoch Mysteries_.
> 
> Lastly, I know that 'none of your business' is anachronistic. But there are plenty of anachronistic things in this episode, so I decided to keep that.
> 
> * * *
> 
> So what do y'all think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?


End file.
